Nightingale
by TheBreakfastMenu
Summary: The whisper of the icy wind within her darkest nightmares harbors the arrival of the Nightingale, caretaker of dreams.
1. Part 1

Nightingale

A soft breeze carried the echo of retreating swallows over the haze of conversation and commerce which quietly spoke the name Tilligte, wherein could be found a head of blunt red hair buried in the labyrinth of pages bound by a lavish casing of purple and white. A pair of ears perked upwards, surveying an otherwise silent room for the melody of footsteps slowly approaching from the adjacent corridor. Slipping the read underneath her pillow just as the door opened with a homely squeal, she sat up with a warm smile as her partner gingerly entered.

"You have returned much earlier than usual, have you not?" she yawned, keeping a loose eye on him as he shut the door.

"I have," he replied, dusting off his weathered jacket and turning to face her, "though I'm surprised to find you awake."

"How is that?" she muffled, toying in and about the thick wool sheets wherein she lay.

"I assumed you enjoyed all the extra sleep you got whenever I was out and about," he explained, resting his eyes while scratching his scraggly bangs overhanging a light smile.

"I do," she insisted, poking her head out and meeting his gray gaze with a stern glare.

"How is today different then?" He asked, giving her an insightful smirk. She paused, her overcast head receding as she peered over at her pillow.

"I could ask you the same," she deflected, shutting her eyes and turning to the side, "it'd be cruel of me to merely suppose that the merchants of Tilligte do not know half as much of commerce as even you, would it not?" She turned back to face him, letting out a faint giggle.

"You might as well, considering I haven't met with any of them yet," he returned, pondering with a stroke of the fuzz which glazed his upward pointed chin. Her condescending smile became a muse of disappointed confusion.

"If this is one of your approaches of profit I fail to see the appeal," she murmured, falling back into her mattress which gave a rough sigh to her firm disposition.

"If only," he said, taking a seat atop his own mattress which lay silently stalwart and carefully made up in perfect contrast to the unrecognizable mess just to its opposite, "no, the shops simply aren't open today."

"But it is not a day of worship," she replied, burying her face into her pillow, "Nor a holiday,"

"Not a holiday, no," he began, looking out across the room at the hustle and bustle of a nearby stretch of city, "but something's got them out and about, perhaps some kind of ambiguous celebration." A once down trodden pair of unimpressed ears perked upward.

"Celebration?" she asked, sitting up to face a renewed source of interest, resting atop outstretched arms to lean inwards.

"Could be," he began, placing a hand upon his chin, "I seldom travel through this area, even less through this town in particular, I suppose it wouldn't be too surprising if-" He stopped. The bed laid empty and the door wide open.

"Why must you bore me with your dithering?" her voice echoed, furthering down the hallway, "I wish to celebrate!"

"You don't even know if that's the case, or even the occasion for that matter!" he insisted, throwing on his jacket and trudging after her.

"I am Holo the Wise Wolf," she declared, digging a pointed finger into his chest as he caught up to her, "I do not require such knowledge to indulge in food and drink." He paused.

"God help me," he sighed, grasping the forehead beneath his bangs as she merrily skipped down the nearby stairs.

Holo and her merchant partner had been to many a town and country in the while they had traveled together. As such, nothing about the square which Tilligte had to offer its inhabitants, even at a time of joyous recognition, came as a particular surprise. Shops and warehouses of all walks of life, each of them adorned with a familiar theme of dark wood and sturdy construction which complimented the cold atmosphere of their surroundings lined a stone walk plaza, accompanied by a water feature which could only be described as modest at best, and filled to the brim with small cloth huts which, on any other day, would each house a single merchant of unique trade. In their place could be found a wise wolf inhaling roasted meats washed down with lethal quantities of beer and wine opposite to an unimpressed merchant whose wallet gave off the deaf weep of emptiness.

"Don't think that just because we agreed to keep travelling with each other means my wagon is a free ride now," he explained, his hands folded across an anxious mouth, "you still need to earn your food." Holo grinned, taking another great swig.

"I'd be disappointed if falling in love with me took your mind off of your money so easily," she replied, shooting him a smirk before gouging another chop of mutton.

"I'm serious," he insisted, strengthening his poise, "if you want to keep eating like this I'd appreciate it if you kept hold of your financial perspective with each meal."

"Your lack of faith concerns me, Lawrence" Holo glared, wiping her mouth of uneaten bits, "Have I not always returned your investments in both good time as well as quantity?" He stuttered, unable to deny.

"You have," he admitted, leaning back into his seat, "however, now that we're even I need to make sure we don't over extend ourselves again."

"I'd rather not worry about it for both our sakes, so I'm going to be keeping a tight track of our expenses," he continued, finding it difficult not to cringe as she downed another pitcher, "specifically, yours."

"By all means," Holo replied, eyeing anything that wasn't him while simultaneously extending her arm, hollow pitcher in hand, out over the table and in his face signaling for another, "let me know if it becomes too much of a bother and I'll depart." A sly eye fell upon him as he slowly reached for the pitcher in defeat; the anticipated response.

"Excuse me, miss," belched the flamboyant voice of an approaching tavern hand carrying an overflowing carafe of ale, "another drink for the lady, courtesy of the gentleman opposite the room." Looking over through the current of patrons, whether in their minds or out, their eyes befell a black bear fur coat as tall as the man who wore it, his silky black bangs casting a faint shadow upon his violet irises which gave a quick looking up and down before his slightly ajar lips became an inviting while noticeably lewd smile.

"Perhaps I need not waste your money after all," she smirked, looking over at Lawrence, caught up in himself and festering from competition, before taking to the gentleman's generous treat.

"Forgive me," she began again having finished her drink, catching Lawrence's attention once more, "I believe that I, in my enthusiasm, rudely disallowed you from enlightening me on the cause of these peoples' celebration, did I not?" Another deflection, though he was more than happy to ease himself and proceed.

"It is not a celebration which has these people scattered," A light yet stern voice interrupted. Looking over at its source, the two of them watched as the very same man who had treated Holo pulled in a nearby chair and sat himself adjacent to his recipient.

"Then perhaps you care to clarify, mister…?" Holo's partner returned, his brow twitching at the uninvited arrival while slightly inclined to embellish a possible associate.

"Ah yes, forgive me of my wretched manners," the man said, all the while his eyes on Holo, "Krupp Gibson, at your service, I frequently travel these lands searching for any profit I can." He was quite pleased with himself.

"Kraft Lawrence," he introduced, extending a lightly cupped hand, "I'm a travelling merchant myself."

"Small world," Krupp commented, his eyesight refusing to shift, "and by what do I have the honor to call your gorgeous companion?"

"I am Holo," she smiled, lifting her hand, "a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Holo," Krupp replied, taking her hand into his own and giving it a gentle kiss before noticing his gift of drink to be no more, "Barkeep, another!"

"How thoughtful," Holo mused, much to Krupp's delight.

"I aim to please," He replied, inching himself closer with his grin of unimaginable intention until the keep set down yet another pitcher of ale to add to the already impressive collection. Turning around to hand him a pence in payment, Krupp paused to see him facing Lawrence, who had already given a coin of his own.

"I believe you were in the middle of an explanation," he said, sitting back glazed with a smug competitiveness.

"Very well," Krupp began, leaning back into his own seat and crossing his hands about his confident expression, "If you must know, the citizens of Tilligte, and indeed many of her neighboring towns, have closed their doors on this day in protest."

"Of what exactly?" Lawrence winced, fearful of the devastating potential of civilian uprising. Krupp sighed.

"The sultan-kingdom of Issen has begun restricting trade over their territory to the east," he explained, maintaining his composure.

"My God, the entire spice market is bound to collapse," Lawrence awed, his conscience a fury of weighting and speculation as to how to appropriately approach such a happening. Krupp nodded in grim concurrence.

"And it doesn't end there," he began again, his tone seeming only to grow less hopeful, "somehow; the Voc van Bruuz Trading Company was able to anticipate this action and not only bought up the remaining supply to sell when the price jumps, but also secured a monopoly on Black Pepper production as well." Lawrence could only keep silent.

"I fail to see by what means this should arouse our concern," Holo said having grown tired of merely listening.

"Well, you see-" Krupp began.

"Because pepper and spice carry a potent effect on the collective market," Lawrence interrupted, though his conscience remained elsewhere, "Each of the conglomerate markets which make up the collective are divided still into their individual component markets which, in our case, would be the spice component of the food conglomerate." Holo listened, as attentive as ever of her partner's lectures.

"These component markets carry an influence which cascades throughout the neighbor components, destabilize one for whatever reason and the neighbors experience a relative reaction," Lawrence continued, "Unfortunately, the component market in question not only experiences erratic instability on a regular basis, but also provides a unique bolstering effect for the food conglomerate as well; whenever the spice market is in good standing food prices drop, however, the opposite is also true; even a slight correction has the potential of widespread famine."

"So the shopkeepers protest to prevent this?" Holo asked, every bit of this conversation holding foremost in her mind.

"Not exactly," Krupp said, switching glances between the two of them, "Considering the circumstances, famine is basically inevitable, and surely such a disturbing truth would be most disconcerting for the masses who barely escape malnutrition as it is, but this particular demonstration has another motive behind it." Holo and Lawrence stood silent and still, waiting for his reasoning.

"Shortly after receiving their long sought after monopoly, Voc van Bruuz Trading began imposing ludicrous tax levies on both individual sale, as well as non-organizational shipment of said cargo," Krupp continued.

"Exclude any right minded freelance merchant from handling their product while simultaneously over-taxing it for consumption," Lawrence awed, struck back by the insidious nature of such a plot, though none the less impressed.

"It is a very clever maneuver, is it not?" Holo suggested as she finished her second gift of drink.

"I agree," Lawrence replied, his fist in a harmonic clench as uncertainty dripped from his forehead, "and that's precisely what frightens me."

"You are most adorable when challenged, Lawrence," Holo smiled, a swivel beginning to form in her pose as her cheeks became a faint red, "and what of you, Mr. Gibson; how do you intend to face such a calamity?" Krupp gathered himself into a smug grin.

"Me?" he replied, removing himself from the seat and turning towards the exit, "I'm closing up shop; gonna sell everything expendable, take to the road with haste, and stay there."

"Hm, perhaps we will fare better thanks to your information," Lawrence said, getting up from his own chair to bid him farewell.

"Anything for someone of such stature and beauty as you," Krupp mused, Holo's hands firmly within his own as he gazed into her, "I pray that fate will bring us together once more someday; adieu." Without another word or glance at either of them, the man named Krupp seemed to slither himself through the dense crowd which surrounded them and out of the tavern. Having learned so much of their circumstance, and yet so little about the man who conveyed it to them, Holo and Lawrence could only exchange glances between each other and the direction in which he had departed before merely smiling with an occasional scoff of laughter.

"That man from earlier today was most charming, was he not?" Holo said, her arms wrapped around Lawrence's bicep as he guided the two of them into their room, still and dark from the young moon, which flooded with the illumination of a hand candle upon opening the door.

"You're drunk," Lawrence replied, an understatement of the day's intake as he sat her down onto her bed.

"I think you find him intimidating," Holo teased, falling back into the mattress with a faint thud.

"Krupp? Not a chance," Lawrence lied as he turned to face his own bed.

"That is too bad," Holo replied, curling herself up into her sheets, "I find it very attractive when you are jealous." Lawrence turned back and could only smile.

"Well," he began, Holo's ear perking as she looked his way, "maybe just a little bit." Meeting his gentle gaze, Holo smiled and sat herself back up.

"So," she began, challenging him with a playful glare, "do you think he is telling the truth?" Lawrence paused; a valid question.

"Uncertain," he replied, his hand on his chin as he took a seat on her bed, "Most merchants, myself included, rarely deal in such an unstable trade as that of pepper and spice, so I don't see how he'd be able to make a significant profit by scaring us away from the market unless he or his employer are looking to buy up the supply themselves."

"That would make his story true, would it not?" Holo followed.

"It would," Lawrence nodded, "still, something about it as a whole simply doesn't quite add up; the prospective return is lost in far too much critical context."

"But?" Holo said, her speech elongated into an exasperated muse as she brought her head up to his, resting it on his shoulder.

"To disregard his story too quickly would mean passing up any opportunity to properly prepare, or even make a profit, should it turn out to be true," Lawrence explained, his eyes closed and his body stiff to assure his deepness of thought, "assuming that it's even possible, I can't even begin to assess how to correctly approach the situation until we know precisely in what way it works; I suppose all we can do for now is wait and see." Holo smiled and laid her cheek on his shoulder, glad to see the part of him that she loved alive and ablaze.

"You will find a way," she soothed, wrapping her arms around him as she took in every bit of his scent, her ever potent ears listening for the pounding in his chest, "I have faith in you, Lawrence."

"Glad I'm not the only one," Lawrenced teased as he took her into his own arms, nose to nose, staring deep into her pools of burgundy. Time seemed still as they sampled each other, each of them waiting for the other to respond. Holo leaped forward.

It was nowhere near satisfying as he seemed to awake from some kind of brevity of conscience, but it would have to be enough. She had already descended into the sheets and at least pretended to fall asleep. Slowly ascending from her mattress, cautious not to make too much noise, he navigated the rickety hardwood to the bed opposite hers and silently undressed it. Placing his jacket atop the sheets just so to adequately cover himself, he slid himself in, his mind still on edge at the day's events. Sleep was anything but certain as he lie awake, lost in his mind. He was more than happy to trade humility and a reserve of pressure for an incentive of the frightening sort, especially if he could feel the soft skin of its petit hand and join its warm lips with his own. Still, the worry of two was enough to keep him adjusting to the difference of light between the moon peeking in through the window and the darkness which clouded the corners, that is, until his eyes befell the harmonic motion of his mythical companion, by this point sound asleep. With a sigh of relief, he became still. If she could sleep, so could he.


	2. Part 2

She stands bare, her skin chaffing at the icy breeze and her eyes reluctantly adjusting to the smog of light barely piercing the veil of black clouds spewing ash and debris above as they befell rickety stone. Her ears quiver at the deafening church bells. The door creaks open, their rusty hinges screech to reveal her own. They stand pretentiously behind him. They were right, their eyesight like a bludgeon as he brings a familiar blade to his neck. Digging in with disturbing force, he writhes his way around, blood and flesh spilling at their claws. He cannot breathe; his lungs are drenched in it as he falls to the ground. He reaches out to her, but she cannot react. The doors slam shut. The sun goes out.

She awakes. Lurching forward, she scours the room for signs of life. He has gone. She knows where, but she cannot escape that she is alone at such a time as this. Falling back into her pillow, she curls herself up as a tear escapes. It rolls down her cheek as she tries to breathe, reminding herself that she knows where he is.

"This is my offer," said the smoke weathered voice of a stout shop keeper showcasing a carefully weighted abacus. Lawrence pondered for a moment, looking back at his cargo. Seven-hundred and seventy-five Perigeaut silver coins, roughly three-hundred Trenni.

"I suppose you're not an advocate of future business associates," Lawrence pressured, the value nowhere near what the profit he had anticipated.

"Try to see things from my perspective, Lawrence," the shop keep anxiously replied, "With the Issen blockade and the spice market in the shit prices have plummeted everywhere, I need to be able to sell these goods as soon as possible and the good Lord knows no amount of haggling will stop Voc van Bruuz from taxing the hell out of me." Lawrence was silent; cornered.

"Am I not also in your situation?" Lawrence reasoned, his hands folded across closed eyes. This was not going to work.

"Look, I understand your position, but things are about to become a lot more complicated around here and we both need to keep our heads down if we want to keep eating," the shop keep explained, reluctant to see the hardships he himself used to bear going unnoticed, "How about I give you seven-hundred and ninety Perigeaut and we call it a deal?" Lawrence remained still. It would have to be enough.

"Very well," Lawrence agreed, meeting the keep's extended arm, "might I receive my payment in Trenni?"

"As you wish," the shop keep replied, rolling his eyes and retreating behind his counter to conjure up the settled payment leaving Lawrence to bask in the bog of his miniscule profit, still unable to reason the occurrence of such a misfortunate turn of events and most assuredly feeling the strain of a lack of time.

"There you are, three-hundred and ten Trenni silver coins," he said, setting the bag of currency onto the table before Lawrence who felt a sudden inclination to count the lot of it, "I'll unload the cargo and have your wagon returned to you before dusk." He finished counting. It was all there.

Lawrence didn't see much of a point wishing the shop keep fare well, he may have asked God to watch over his travels, but Lawrence knew all too well on who his eyes had befallen in that particular incident as he treaded the stone walkways back to the inn, back to her. The streets were silent and, considering the circumstances, appeared far more hopeless. Even the beggars seemed to veil themselves within the dark corridors, finding it pointless to ask others for money they surely didn't have. Looking up to view the row of rooftops, each of them sporting firmly shut windows, he noticed a blanket of disconcertingly dark clouds beginning to descend upon the horizon.

"Calm," he sighed to himself, digging his hands into his dusty pockets just as a disgruntled regiment of settlement guards brushed past him bearing an impressive arsenal, their fearsome intent showing in their posture as they scoured the premises seeming to anxiously await disruption.

"Fear not, my brethren!" belted the good intentioned condescension of a well-dressed man standing over all else, "the treachery of the well fed and unfaithful hath left thee in the tatters of poverty without refuge, but do not despair; The Good Lord will lead his followers to holy prosperity, free of the trivial injustice of materialistic heathens!" As Lawrence observed from afar, the once insufficient rabble before him became a crowd of enticed individuals.

"Follow Him, and he will save you from the trivial injustice of the materialistic heathens who plague your existence!" the man finished, striking a heroic pose quickly greeted by the cheers and concurrence of those around him. Lawrence was silent.

"Did it turn out well?" Holo mused, her face half engulfed into a pillow and turned opposite the door as she sensed Lawrence's considerate entrance amidst the clang of marching armor just outside the window. His suspicions laid to rest, Lawrence entered the room with a soft chuckle.

"I think all that sleep has caught up to you," he smiled, placing his jacket onto his own mattress before taking a seat facing her.

"That is not the answer to my question," Holo swiftly replied, her voice abnormally stern as she became tense under the sheets. Lawrence became still.

"Sorry," he said, easing up from her unexpected response, "everything went fine." Holo's ears perked upward.

"You are an awful liar, Lawrence," she said, dragging herself up into a sitting position and facing him as she rubbed the sand from her early eyes. He was a bit stunned, it had been a while since she had last caught a lie and even further since he had told one, but he couldn't say he was surprised. He should have known better.

"Well, I did make a profit," Lawrence reasoned, for that much was the truth, "it wasn't anywhere close to what I had anticipated, but considering the circumstances I suppose I can't say I'm disappointed."

"I suppose I shall have to drink less," Holo yawned as she inched herself to the edge of her own bed, semi-serious.

"Not quite," Lawrence replied, eyes closed with a hand on his chin, suddenly catching Holo's attention.

"How is that?" she asked as she leaned towards him, anxious for his response. He was still, only opening his eyes to meet her insightful gaze.

"Do you think I'm being too ambitious?" Lawrence asked, his head abuzz with anxious weighing of outcome and return as the two of them walked the same pathways he had taken that morning, the only distinction being a slight variation of liveliness.

"Ambition is necessitated by intent," Holo replied, her ears twitching underneath a familiar veil as she walked alongside him.

"Then I will find such intent," Lawrence said, a playful tension in his tone as he looked down at her.

"Now you are being too ambitious," Holo smiled as she looked back up at him, sensing the sincerity of his gaze which seemed to possess a faint humility. Wrapping her arms around his, a faint desire of romantic solitude brushed her conscience as the bustling crowd seemed to ruin an otherwise precious moment. There with him, an atmosphere of peace grasped her so potently that even her eyes became heavy as she walked. That is, until the dread and misery of the past night found her again.

"Holo!" Lawrence yelled, snapping her back from her half woken state to find herself dangling from his arm, the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground. Springing forward, she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

"What has gotten into you, Holo?" he asked, exasperated at her unusual behavior and reluctant to return her affectionate gesture until he knew its origin.

"A little longer, Lawrence, I beg of you," she sighed in reply, her eyes watering as she seemed to only tighten her grip on him, "just let me stay like this a little bit longer." Lawrence paused, only able to muster up a gentle smile in response as he slowly returned her embrace.

"Now I know all that sleep has caught up to you," he smiled, unable to hold back a soft giggle. It was all he could think of.

"You are right," Holo replied, inhaling the last of her sadness as she loosened her grip to look up at him.

"I'm right?" Lawrence laughed, stricken back by such a reply, "how do those words taste leaving your mouth?"

"Like the most bitter of vinegars," Holo mused, giving him a smile which seemed to reflect the very radiance of the sun above them before releasing from him and collecting herself upon discovery that the two of them had made a bit of a scene.

"Here," Lawrence said as he reached into one of the many pockets which lined the inside of his jacket and pulled out a small handkerchief and motioned it towards her.

"I do not want it," Holo growled, taking her leave away from him with chin held confidently high, "do not ever speak of this again." Lawrence did not move.

"Were already here, Holo," he smiled, nearly unable to hold himself back as she halted, seeming to shiver with rage, before becoming still and turning back around.

"I knew that," she replied, keeping her eyes off of him and walking clear past him as she trekked the pathway piercing through a lavish set up of grass and garden surrounding a structure which seemed to distinguish itself with an unexpected pretentiousness for such a humble mountain town. The spire rivaled even that of a cathedral, caressing the heavens and brimming with a golden shimmer. The property as a whole seemed to wall itself within an aura of positive aspects, like a shield from the reality of poverty and unrest beyond it.

"It appears that not everyone has been affected by recent happenings," Holo said, mindful to keep her eyes off of Lawrence as the two of them approached the door.

"My thoughts exactly," Lawrence returned, taking in every ounce of the extravagant atmosphere as he reached for the knocking handle. The both of them could sense the long and scarcely inhabited corridors as the pounding seemed to ricochet throughout the entirety of the house. With a vintage creak, the substantially large door panned open to reveal the creaseless stature of a property hand no taller than Holo, his long blonde curls hanging just so to shade his empty caramel stare.

"Earl of Tilligte, Alexi Basil the Third, welcomes you to his home," the boy recited, his blank gaze unfaltering and seeming to look clear through the both of them, "how may I help you?"

"We would like to meet with the Earl," Lawrence replied, smiling down at the boy who merely stood in place with an eerie silence as he listened, "I have some spices that I'd like to sell to him." Holo's ears twitched as she glanced over at him.

"Very well," the boy agreed, opening the door to its fullest breadth, "please follow me." Stepping through the door and into a corridor which separated two grand spiraled staircases, their eyes befell greatly intricate paintings and statues which outsized the lot of them. The atmosphere smelt of a thick yet delightfully engrossing aroma of foreign fruits, and not a single spec of dirt or imperfection was to be seen.

"I was unaware of your cargo, Lawrence," Holo tested, her eyes keeping straight ahead.

"You must have been drunk when I bought them," Lawrence replied, taking note of the way the boy's glance seemed to shoot back at them as he walked. Holo couldn't argue.

"The Earl will meet with you here," the boy pointed out as they stepped out from the corridor and into a dining hall of spotless tile and high ceiling, where underneath a chandelier of countless branches could be found a long table filled from corner to corner with all manner of sustenance imaginable.

"Thank you," Lawrence smiled as the boy dismissed himself with a humble bow before looking over at Holo who stood face to face with the table, her mouth agate and glazed with saliva.

"Of all the things I have encountered in my life, this is by far the most beautiful," Holo mused, struggling to hold back her hungry fangs.

"It is pretty impressive," Lawrence agreed, joining her next to the table, "but this is not why we're here, so try to control yourself." Holo sighed.

"By all means, help yourselves," an inviting voice dressed in surprisingly modest shop overalls dusted with a light coat of wood shavings insisted as he entered the room. Without missing a moment, Holo's disappointment turned to shear elation as she dove into the endless trifle of food.

"Holo!" Lawrenced sniped, appalled at her lack of decency.

"It would be unwise to disregard the insistence of a man within his own home, would it not?" she returned, taking leave from her indulgence to shoot him a playful glare. Lawrence could only growl to himself.

"I assure you there is no need to worry," the man laughed, pounding his abnormally large hands onto Lawrence's shoulder as he found it difficult to take his eyes off of the wolf woman stuffing her cheeks next to him, "there is plenty for everyone, so please enjoy." Disinclined to ascertain anything worth reciprocating, Lawrence went to respectfully decline his offer.

"Oh, but where have my manners gone?" he interrupted, extending an arm towards Lawrence, "Alexi Basil the Third, Earl of Tilligte."

"Kraft Lawrence, I go by Lawrence," Lawrence replied, returning Alexi's shake of the hand, "the woman eating all of your food is my partner, Holo."

"A pleasure to meet the both of you," Alexi smiled, finding it pleasantly humorous of Holo's less-than-dignified introduction seeming to go in one of her ears and merely out the other, "please, have a seat."

"I understand that you have spice you would like to sell me," he continued as the three of them each took a seat within general proximity of one another. Holo simply kept to her indulgence.

"Indeed, and allow me to express my apologies," Lawrence replied, his hands crossed over his mouth.

"How is that?" Alexi replied, taking to the setup of sustenance himself.

"I'm afraid that, in making haste per recent events, I was unable to proclaim a formal appointment for transaction of such a product," Lawrence explained.

"I understand," Alexi happily replied as he ceased his nibbling, "the Issen blockade has truly taken its toll on us all, I cannot honorably judge drastic measure." A deafening clang rung out as Holo dropped her silverware, unwilling to take another bite.

"It must have been quite the inconvenience accepting the business of a common street peddler without an appointment," Lawrence pressed, his hands remaining where they were.

"I assure you it was no trouble at all," Alexi insisted, almost agitated with their battle of kindness, "you are making quite the ordeal of such a trivial matter."

"Am I now?" Lawrence quickly returned, "with the good Lord as your witness, tell me that it was of no inconvenience to you, Alexi."

"Well, I do not associate myself with such beliefs," he explained, a slight stutter in his speech, "here in the north we do not hold any religious preference; such is the freedom of every man to choose for himself."

"I see," Lawrence growled, motioning his hand towards the window where could be seen the beginnings of a light shower under cold gray skies, "that must explain the missionaries prancing in the about in the streets while your soldiers scour the alleyways." Alexi inhaled deeply.

"If you wish to make heinous implications, I implore you to be more direct, Mister Lawrence," he grumbled as a faint roll of thunder echoed throughout the room.

"Mr Basil, you and the Earls of Tilligte's neighboring duchies are directly assisting the Voc van Bruuz Trading Company," Lawrence proclaimed, standing himself up with his hands firmly planted on the table as he stared Alexi dead in his captured eyes, "taking the ludicrous profit for yourself while your people starve!" Alexi was still where he sat.

"That is a bold accusation, Lawrence," he replied, returning Lawrence's furious glare, "I don't suppose you can support these outrageous claims."

"As a matter of fact," Lawrence began with a smug grin, "any doubt I may have harbored was laid to rest the moment you allowed me to enter."

"And how is that?" Alexi replied, calling his bluff.

"Because political figures under the jurisdiction of the Kingdom of Perigeaut are not allowed to engage in private commerce without regulation from a representative," Holo realized to her great impression, "without an appointment such would be impossible, rendering this transaction void."

"Precisely," Lawrence concurred, taking back his seat on the bench, "I wagered that the simple utterance of spices would allow me passage."

"Thank you for proving me right, Mr. Basil," Lawrence mused, pleased with his hard earned sense of accomplishment.

"You are quite clever, Lawrence," Holo followed, showcasing her own fiendish grin. Suddenly she became still as her ears perked underneath her hood; heavy footsteps.

"That is preposterous!" Alexi protested, "Tilligte is not a part of the Kingdom of Perigeaut!" Hearing this, Holo broke from her moment of sensation.

"Perhaps not directly," she replied, her focus returned to him, "but you are a territory, are you not?"

"W-well…I…" Alexi stuttered.

"A subsidiary of political influence strategically kept from the direct jurisdiction of Perigeaut by Voc van Bruuz Trading," Lawrence explained, confident in his advantageous position.

"We are divided for the commonwealth of the people!" Alexi insisted again, leaning forward in his frustration.

"You are divided because imposing variant tax codes on the individual component regions of a single political entity would be far too delicate and complex of a process," Lawrence replied, calm where he was, "no, keeping the otherwise unified kingdom separated makes their task much simpler once they trade their monopoly on spice for tax priority from King Theuderic himself." The room became silent. Holo's ears perked again.

"Lawrence!" she cried out as the both of them were dragged from their seats by two heavy sets of hands coated in armor plating and subdued at spear-point. Resisting with all their might, though to nary avail, they watched as a third body, the boy who had welcomed them, approached Alexi who now stood with an ominous poise.

"Are you alright, my Lord?" he asked in his hideously monotone voice as he seemed to stand near motionless.

"Fine," Alexi replied, brushing past the boy as he approached Lawrence, "I greatly admire your intuition, Lawrence; however, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to proceed." Lawrence could only glare at him, occasionally wincing back at Holo who sat with an aura of fear as he did.

"How shall we deal with them, my Lord?" the boy asked from behind Alexi, insidiously uninterested with any outcome.

"Execute them," Alexi answered, his gaze almost showing a trifle of sympathy as he began for the other room, his eyes on anything but them.

"As you wish, my Lord," the boy replied, his empty stare piercing through their fluttering hearts as Lawrence desperately tried to figure some kind of compromise; the unbearable pressure waning on him as he attempted to calm himself. Calm.


End file.
